The Haremole Feast
by Aika Lover
Summary: A fun day of scoffing and playing at the jolly old Haremole feast, wot?


The Haremole Feast  
  
An accompaniment to Redwall  
  
Benjamin White  
  
Note: This is my first fanfiction. I wrote it back a couple years ago, after reading the first Redwall book. I was totally immersed in it. Now I have 12 of the 14 current books, and I am a much better Redwall fan-fiction writer. However, I found it best to start with one of my first (and worst) pieces. Reviews appreciated!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The sun beat down hard on the twelve tiny figures standing in the shadow of Redwall Abbey as they struggled against each other. The figures laughed aloud and joyfully taunted one another as they tugged at either end of a rope.  
  
"You're a bally well strongbeast, ain't you, Sunbeam? Stronger than those moles over there, wot?" Shouted a hare named Shadowpaw as he patted another young hare on the back.  
  
"Burr, us'ns molees be stronger than you'm bee!" came a shout from the other side of the rope.  
  
"That's it chaps," said one of the figures, a large hare named Treebearer, joyfully. He momentarily released his grip on the rope as he turned to address the rest of the hares. "Keep bally well pulling! That's it, wot?"  
  
"Burr, you'm can't beaten us'ns, zurr," laughed one of the other figures, a mole, to his fellow moles. "Hurr, poll you'm scragglee leetle vurmints, POLL!!!"  
  
Because of the fact that Treebearer let go of the rope, the hares had a lot less strength on their side. Noticing this, the moles tugged harder and harder at the rope, and with one last surge of power, they ripped the rope right out of the hands of the hares. They all fell backwards, and landed neatly in a pile, on top of each other.  
  
The hares laughed aloud. After momentarily shooting them an angry glance, the moles also joined in on the laughing. They tossed the rope aside, and sat down on the lawn to take a rest. Two of the hares disappeared as they ran into the abbey, and quickly reappeared with two large baskets each in their arms. They then disappeared inside the abbey, again, and reappeared with yet more baskets. They did this several times, until many of the animals wondered what there could be so much of that it fit in SO MANY baskets. Finally, the hares came out from the abbey for the last time, and beckoned for the rest of the animals to join them under one of the nearby trees.  
  
The twelve figures then gathered under one of the large oak trees in the front yard of the abbey. They stared wide-eyed at the two hares as they finally opened the baskets and revealed what was in them: FOOD!!! And no shortage of it!  
  
There was plate after plate of shrew cake, sugared plums, candied chestnuts, scones, honeyed pairs, vegetable flans, tasty pasties of all sorts, and even a turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot pie, and flask after flask of the finest October Ale and Elderberry Wine. There were audible gasps from many of the animals in attendance.  
  
"What ho, chaps? I say, what a spread! Oh, I've just had a bally good idea! What say ye to a scoffing contest?" suggested a hare named Grassblade.  
  
A bunch of joyous shouts arose from all the hares that were there.  
  
"Bally good idea, Grassblade!"  
  
"I say, why didn't I think of that?"  
  
"What ho chaps, tip-top idea, wot?"  
  
"Three cheers for the scoffing contest, wot wot?"  
  
The moles sat quietly while all of this was going on. They looked around at the hares, many of them looking slightly embarrassed. They waited for the yelling hares to quiet down, before one of them spoke. He blushed slightly.  
  
"Burr, thar be enough food 'ere for a skofin contester, but you'm know that oi and 'ee ofer molees not bee able to beet you'm harrybeasts in a skoffin' contester!"  
  
"Worry not, old chap! You don't have to take place in the contest if you don't want to, you know. You bally old chaps can just watch us over on the side – although I don't know why you'd want to miss the chance to scoff all this good food at once, wot?  
  
The moles gathered around each other briefly, and conversed in low tones. They only talked for about ten minutes, but to the hares, it seemed like ten hours. Finally, one mole emerged stern-faced from the group. He looked at Grassblade, who'd been elected the spokesperson for the hares, who looked cheerful, as usual. He broke into a smile.  
  
"Us'ns molee's decided that you'm harrybeasts can 'ave a skofin contester, (loud cheers arose from the crowd of hares, as Grassblade exclaimed "Bally good sport, wot?), as long as you'm leev us'ns enuf food for an asperimend. We been longin' for a new food ter taste fer awhile!"  
  
The hares hastily agreed. A spread of food was set up in the shadow of the abbey, on the lawn, and the hares gathered all around it. The moles stayed a little ways back, watching intently. And so the scoffing contest began. The hares were impressive, and the moles had never seen anybeast eat so much food in so little time. The contest lasted a long time, but at long last a hare named Runeblade was declared the winner, as he beat the other finalist (none other than Grassblade) by eating twenty turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot pies in two minutes.  
  
The festivities lasted well into the night, with many athletic events taking place. The hares won by landslides in all the races, including the race around the abbey and the two-legged race. The moles took the prizes in the categories of fastest tunnel digging (with the hares profusely protesting the event with shouts of "That's bally well not fair, wot?") and javelin throw.  
  
At last, the animals settled down to a nice meal of turnip 'n' shrew cake 'n' candied chestnut pie, which was the result of the moles experiment earlier. They washed all this down with even more October Ale. It was agreed to by all the animals that the pie was a great success, and the moles were to make more of these strange delicacies for breakfast the next morning.  
  
Slowly, all the peaceful abbeybeasts settled down for a peaceful sleep under the same great oak tree that they had feasted under earlier. Their bellies were full and they had naught a care in the world, and the only thought on many of their minds was when the next picnic was Haremole Feast was going to be.  
  
The End?  
  
The End!?! I should bally well think not, wot? We'll be back for the next jolly old scoffing contest, chaps, worry not! Wot, wot? -Grassblade 


End file.
